


Exceptions

by Biting Words (Reyna_is_epic)



Series: We're Both A Bit Of A Mess [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brigitte Just needs some sleep, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Gay, Hana "bi distaster" Song, Hana just needs to learn to chill, Lena Oxton is still a little shit, Lesbians, MekaMechanic, Wow, but like, girls with their hair down are amazing, idk - Freeform, just fluff, just for fun, just girls, maybe some angst later on, mekanic, not a direct sequeal, sleeping, sleepy people, the same universe?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyna_is_epic/pseuds/Biting%20Words
Summary: Hana has a set of rules when it comes to dating, and she's always followed them. It's for both the safety of herself and whoever she's supposed to be "dating". It's nothing against them, it's just that, in her experience, dating someone who half the world knows the name of can be both hard and taxing for both parties involved.But the thing is, Brigitte shatters all of her rules with little more than a smile and cursory glance.Brigitte appears in her streams, in her dreams. Brigitte shows up in the kitchen on early mornings in little more than a t-shirt and shorts.And so, little by little Hana feels her walls breaking, her boundaries come crumbling at her feet.And she loves it.





	Exceptions

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't really a direct sequel so much as something that just goes off of an established beginning. Mostly I just wanted to explore their relationship, I have no Idea where this is going so strap in kids, we're going to have some fun.

Never in her life has Hana ever thought of someone who just got up from their bed as “attractive.”

 

She’s seen people roll out of bed, hastily wiping droop from their mouths and frantically trying to cure the morning breath that plagues them so. Hana’s seen guys attempting to shove themselves into shirts and pants even when she’s already been far too exposed to what’s underneath to care in the slightest. She’s seen girls trying to brush old tangles and knots out of their hair faces twisting in expressions of discomfort as the brush snaps and breaks the strands of hair one by one, hands clenching tighter around the strands.

 

However, Hana can’t help but find the sight in front of her inexplicably, irreplaceably, incredibly attractive.

 

Brigitte has always been good at being the exceptions to her rules.

 

She comes into the kitchen one Monday morning, hair mussed and tangled still from sleep, t-shirt draped over her shoulders like an old blanket far too big for her, covering whatever shorts she hopes she’s wearing underneath. She doesn’t give Hana her customary greeting and instead sulks over to the fridge, blinking blearily through squinted eyes and hanging hairs at the stock.

 

“Rough night?” Hana asks from her position at the kitchen island, moving her scrambled eggs around haphazardly. Brigitte doesn’t respond, still staring sightlessly into the fridge, door clutched loosely in her hand as if she’s forgotten how to shut it.

 

“Brigitte?” she calls again and slowly, so very slowly, Brigitte turns towards her. Her eyes are still clouded with sleep, some of her hair is in her mouth, and one of the sides of her shirt is slipping downwards with each passing second.

 

A rush of warmth and affection goes rushing through Hana so fast and so sudden she nearly falls out of her chair.

 

“Wha’ ‘ime izzit?” Brigitte’s voice is muddled and soft and just the slightest bit raspy and all Hana can do is pray to god her heart doesn’t go flying out of her chest.

 

“Around,” she glances down at her phone, “9-ish?”

 

Brigitte makes a soft grumble of acknowledgment before abandoning the fridge in favor of crossing over to Hana. Without any prompting she casually drapes herself over Hana, resting her face in her shoulder and her arms come around her back, clasping together just beneath her chest. Hana can’t stop the laugh from bubbling through her chest.

 

“What happened to you?” she asks, turning in Brigitte’s hold so she can see her face. Brigitte grumbles at the loss of warmth but ends up resting her forehead against Hana’s anyway.

 

“Rein’s armor,” she mutters, eyes fluttering closed and leaving Hana staring at Brigitte’s soft features. She’s always been struck by the fact that, despite the rest of Brigitte’s body being built for a fight, all defined muscles, and sharp joints, Brigitte’s face has been remarkably soft. Large, round hazel eyes, a gentle, slightly upturned nose, and full lips that Hana’s thought about far too much to be considered normal. Hana reaches up one hand to trace her thumb over Brigitte’s cheek and Brigitte smiles sleepily at the contact nudging Hana’s nose with her own.

 

“You need to go back to bed,” Hana murmurs and Brigitte just grumbles in agreement, leaning forwards so she can bury her face in Hana’s shoulder, pressing her body fully against Hana’s. Hana chuckles at the sudden weight and leans back against the counter in order to keep them both upright.

 

“Can’t,” Brigitte mumbles after a moment, hands tracing small patterns against Hana’s spine. “Morr’son’s got me train’n wi’ Lena.”

 

Hana sighs, rolling her eyes and bringing her hands up to play with the loose strands of Brigitte’s hands.

 

“Honey, you’re falling asleep on your feet,” she mutters and Brigitte only hums in acknowledgment. Hana can’t stop the chuckle that comes running through her at the notion.

 

Brigitte has always been something special. She’s sweet, smart, kind, but she’s also an utter mess. A good companion on the battlefield, a smart and skilled healer as well as mechanic, but a complete and utter klutz. Once, when she hadn’t been paying attention, Brigitte had proceeded slip down an entire flight of stairs, busting both her chin open and shattering her left wrist. She’d then spouted some horrible pick up line about falling for her before passing out and leaving an embarrassingly flustered Hana to drag her to the infirmary where Angela could deal with her utter dork of a girlfriend.

 

“If you go out now all you’re going to succeed in doing is hurting yourself,” Hana mutters into her girlfriend’s hair, but Brigitte doesn’t respond. It isn’t until she registers that Brigitte’s breathing has slowed that she realizes that her girlfriend, has, in fact, fallen asleep standing up. She rolls her eyes, fondly stroking her head.

 

“Why do I put up with you?” She mutters to herself and places both arms underneath Brigitte’s in order to drag her the 8 ft into the common room so she can place her down on the couch.

 

Just at that moment though, the doors to the kitchen open and in comes the very definition of a functioning morning person, Lena Oxton herself. Already dressed up in her combat gear, hair still damp from the shower, and a chipper expression on her face, Lena lets herself in but stops dead when she spots the dosing Brigitte and Hana struggling to hold her girlfriend upright. A large grin that can only be described as shit eating crosses her face.

 

“What happened to poor Bri? You keep her up too late Han?” she asks, leaning against the other side of the counter and watching with satisfaction as Hana’s face blooms such a  bright red that she’s certain that she’s blending into Brigitte’s hair.

 

“LENA!” she squeaks and the Brit just lets out a cackle, throwing her head back while Hana splutters uselessly. Brigitte snorts, lifting her head from Hana’s shoulder and squinting at Lena through half-lidded eyes.

 

“Wha..?” she mumbles and Lena just continues laughing, throwing her head back while Hana goes through the whole color spectrum of red. Brigitte just continues staring at Lena questioningly.

 

“Lena Oxton I swear to fucking God-!” Hana growls, turning in Brigitte’s hold and wrestling her way out, climbing over the island while Lena continues laughing like a dying goose. Brigitte, without Hana’s support, slumps against the counter, blinking like a sleep drowned cat. She yawns hugely before resting her head down on her arms.

 

Hana throws her arms around Lena’s neck and squeezes.

 

~~~

 

The next Friday Brigitte finds herself alone in the kitchen, which isn’t abnormal. She’s usually the first person up, as long as Reinhardt or Torbjorn hasn’t kept her up working on some project, or Angela was dragged off to bed by Fareeha the night before. However, as the many interesting personalities of Overwatch come in and out of the kitchen that morning, Brigitte quickly notices the lack of a certain South Korean idol.

 

Sure, Hana’s never been particularly known for being an early riser, nor does she usually go to bed at a decent time. In fact, Brigitte remembers Hana mentioning she was going to stream the night before, so it isn’t really a surprise that she hasn’t shown up yet.

 

But once it reaches past two in the afternoon and no one has seen Hana yet, Brigitte decides it’s time to pay the gamer a visit.

 

The last thing she expects to find, however, is Hana hunched over her gaming rig, facedown in her keyboard, headphones still perched on her head and cans of Redbull littering the ground around her. Brigitte can’t help but stare fondly as Hana continues to snore softly into her microphone, making that same soft huffing noise that used to drive her crazy. 

 

With barely contained laughter Brigitte makes her way through Hana’s landmine of a room to carefully remove the headphones from her girlfriend’s head. Hana hums softly, but otherwise doesn’t stir. Brigitte laughs at this and carefully tucks one arm underneath Hana’s shoulders and the other underneath her knees, lifting her from the chair and placing her on the bed in one swift movement.

 

Hana doesn’t so much as make that little huffing noise a little louder than usual.

 

Brigitte just laughs as she combs the hair out of Hana’s face. Hana’s always been the youngest member of Overwatch, but she never really showed it. Whether that was because she was constantly putting up a front or because she was simply raised to behave that way, Brigitte still didn’t know. 

 

However, with her deep in sleep, Brigitte can see the youth in her cheeks. The absence of worry lines she sees in other members of Overwatch just a few years older than herself.

 

Even Lena, barely three years her senior, has a permanent line between her eyebrows from scowling too much.

 

Angela, who somehow managed to accidentally slow her aging process through science that Brigitte has no hope of understanding, is starting to get laughter lines around her eyes and every day her knuckles seem more and more visible in her hands.

 

Brigitte herself is starting to show early signs of aging, though she personally blames that on the fact that she was constantly around fire and smoke from the age of 7. Her hands are weathered in a way no 23rd-year-old should be. Her voice has a gravelly edge to it from smoke inhalation. Her bones in her spine and shoulders ache daily thanks to years of being hunched over a workbench and weighed down by homemade crusader armor.

 

And Hana, Hana who has been rushing through battle since the age of fourteen. Hana who spent years training and running and pushing her body to the physical limit in order to be the best of her age, the best of her generation. Hana, who has scars along the bridge of her nose from the windshield of a Meka that collapsed in on itself. Hana who has burn scars covering her legs and back from explosions she didn’t get away from fast enough.

 

Hana looks so young.

 

With her big, doe brown eyes, round cheeks, and full lips. Her crooked smile, pearly white teeth, and loud voice. Everything that is Hana screams youth. Unfailing, undying, unaging youth. 

 

Brigitte knows their lifestyle is far from the healthiest. She’s spent years patching up and helping Reinhardt with old battle wounds she can only imagine the scope of.

 

But Hana is just so…

 

Hana.

 

Untouched by it all somehow.

 

And at the same time already sacrificed too much.

 

Brigitte traces her fingers down Hana’s cheek and leans down to kiss her forehead. Hana lets out this quiet little murmur of satisfaction and reaches up a hand to wrap it around Brigitte’s. Brigitte lets a soft chuckle come from her chest and brings up the hand to her lips, kissing it too.

 

Hana’s breath stutters and slowly, ever so gently, Hana blinks her eyes open, staring up at Brigitte looking just the slightest bit dumbstruck. Brigitte can feel warmth bubbling up through her chest and she offers a gentle grin down at her.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Brigitte murmurs, but Hana just smiles, sitting up and placing a soft kiss on Brigitte’s forehead.

 

“‘Ts fine,” she mumbles, rubbing at her face and letting out a large yawn that brings the image of a kitten to Brigitte’s mind. She smiles a little wider.

 

“You missed quite a bit, I’m afraid Morrison won’t be too happy,” she mutters and Hana groans, dropping her head in defeat.

 

“Dammit. I was supposed to help Lena with her rounds today.”

 

Brigitte laughs, laying down beside her girlfriend in order to wrap an arm around her.

 

“Don’t worry, I took care of it,” she informs and Hana hums appreciatively.

 

“You’re an angel, you know that?” She asks, burrowing back down into Brigitte’s side. Brigitte lets herself laugh fully now because Hana is just… too cute sometimes.

 

“If I’m an angel, what does that make you?” she asks and Hana mumbles something into Brigitte’s collarbone. “Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”

 

“Your little shit of a charge,” Hana mutters louder.

 

“You’re right about the little shit part.”

 

Hana smacks her with her pillow. Brigitte chuckles and Hana just continues her onslaught until Brigitte falls off the bed.

 

Brigitte continues laughing on the floor while Hana just flops back onto the bed, muttering darkly into her pillow. However, before she can sit back up to torment her girlfriend further something blinking and red catches her eye.

 

Hana’s streaming camera, set up to record Hana and everything behind her, is pointing at the bed, and the little light that means record is still on. Brigitte’s eyes quickly glance at the computer screen only to watch as patches of text are going flashing by at a speed she could never hope to keep up with.

  
  


Shit.

 

“Uh… Hana…” Brigitte mutters and Hana simply responds by flipping her off.

 

“Go away, I want to sleep more,” she mutters, muffled slightly by the pillow.

 

“Hana, your camera is still on.”

 

“....”

 

“Hana…”

 

“Fuck.”

 

~~~

 

Hana’s not quite sure what she expected when Brigitte was scheduled to go out on a mission without her for a month, no allowed contact during that time, but such a deep, angry, raging loneliness was not it.

 

She’s dated before, she’s seriously dated before, but even then it was just like, ‘I see you when I see you. M’kay?’

 

But Brigitte, as so often she is, is the exception to Hana’s rule. She’s scarcely been gone four days and Hana’s already been subconsciously lingering around her room longer than she should, spending more time near the workshop than she usually does.

 

One night she catches herself watching those old cooking shows Brigitte likes, the ones with the angry blonde guy.

 

And so it goes, for a full month, Hana finds herself doing more and more stupid things that remind her so suddenly and sharply of Brigitte that it feels like someone keeps sneaking up on her and jabbing a fork in her heart. It’s not lethal, and she can live with it, but it  _ fucking hurts _ all the same.

 

Lena’s not even around the tease her about it, she left on the mission with Brigitte, after the last one Hana guesses that Morrison has decided that she and Brigitte aren’t the best to send alone on low profile missions, although the Talon attack was totally not her fault.

 

So a month passes.

 

A month of binge-watching Netflix into the wee hours of the morning, drinking way too much Redbull, ignoring random twitter questions about her girlfriend that range from normal to incredibly inappropriate, and trying to ignore the empty places at the table when Angela and Fareeha force her to sit down and have a “normal meal” for once.

 

It feels more like a year.

 

Then the shuttle is touching down outside and Hana’s waiting anxiously with Fareeha, Angela, and Winston for the damn shuttle to just open already. They hadn’t been called about any complications, but past experience has taught them to be ready in case there are, even if they haven’t been informed of them.

 

The door drops down and down the railing come the two women. Lena’s nursing a black eye and a bandage around her left arm but otherwise looks unharmed.

 

Brigitte has an icepack pressed to her left shoulder, but she’s grinning like an idiot and Hana’s met with those familiar hazel eyes.

 

She rushes forwards, ignoring Angela’s order to stay back so she can check them for injuries, and runs up to her girlfriend, planting a kiss on her before she can stop.

 

Brigitte catches her with her good arm, wrapping it around her torso and kissing with just as much intensity. 

 

And that ache in her chest, that deep-seated sharp jabbing of loneliness? It melts like ice and Hana’s hands find their way up into Brigitte’s hair and Brigitte just pulls her closer, smiling against her lips.

 

Brigitte tastes like honey and cinnamon and all things sweet. There’s a distinct hint of coffee in her mouth and Hana’s always craving it like a drug. She finds that the coffee that's kept in the lounge just doesn’t hold the same ferocity and so she seeks it out with renewed intensity.

 

Eventually, it’s Brigitte who pulls away, gasping for air as if she’s just come up from water and Hana leans her forehead against Brigitte’s, taking in the air with just as much need. It’s thick with the stench of jet fuel and sweat, but she can’t help but feel giddy because Brigitte's back. Brigitte’s back, Brigitte’s back!

 

“Miss me much?” Brigitte rasps, voice whispery with air and all Hana can do is laugh at her audacity.

 

“Like you didn’t miss me too you loser,” she mutters and finally releases Brigitte only to be met with the biggest smile she’s seen to date on the girl. She’s sure that she’s going to go a little blind from the sight.

 

“Oi! If you two are done being gay over there, get your arses in gear and move over here! We got equipment to move!” Lena yells over the roar of the jet and Hana pouts in her direction. Lena’s smirking that stupid smirk that reminds her she needs to go hound the girl about her girlfriend soon or she’s going to start getting a big head.

 

“Lena, I’m not the only one being gay, don’t think I don’t know who you’ve been texting for the past hour!” Brigitte calls, releasing Hana in favor of advancing on Lena who begins spluttering like a schoolgirl, face blooming a bright red to rival Brigitte’s hair. Hana just watches fondly as the two continue poking fun at each other.

 

“Hana.” A voice interrupts her reprieve and she turns to find Angela looking at her with a fond exasperation she’s all too familiar with.

 

“I know, I was supposed to wait,” she mutters, not in the mood for Angela’s scolding, but rather than giving her a lecture, Angela simply ruffles her hair in a way she’s had Fareeha do multiple times.

 

“You’re a kid in love, I can’t deny you that,” she murmurs and smiles that smile that gives Hana a warm feeling in her chest as if she’d just downed a cup of hot cocoa. “But, I will warn you, you’ve got to keep yourself restrained. Sometimes the best thing we can do for those we love, is wait.”

 

Hana gets the feeling she’s speaking from experience.

 

“Angie-” she starts, but a loud crash breaks her sentence, she glances over just in time to see Lena and Brigitte fighting over what looks like a giant dinner plate, Fareeha attempting to get in between the two. Angela lets out a loud sigh before taking off after the group.

 

“Break it up!” She calls.

 

Hana just can’t help but think that there’s a sense of foreboding in the air.

 

~~~

 

When Brigitte falls asleep that night all she can think about it Hana’s lips.

 

Hana Song, internet personality, world-famous celebrity, world hero, Korea’s sweetheart, movie star, tastes like cherries and cream soda and something that she can’t name. She’s overpoweringly sweet and yet Brigitte can’t help but crave it more and more.

 

On her mission, she spent so long alone, crammed into small cots and wooden beds wherever she could find a couple idle hours to rest her head. Sure, Lena was technically with her, but it was supposed to be undercover, they couldn’t be seen together because that would arise too much suspicion.

 

Why Jack thought it would be a good idea to send a woman whose chest glows on an undercover mission, Brigitte has no idea.

 

Tracer is possibly as recognizable as Hana these days, he should’ve just sent Brigitte alone, she’s inconspicuous enough.

 

Except she’s not, because she got caught in Hana’s stream and the world consequently exploded with “HANA SONG HAS A GIRLFRIEND?!?!?!”

 

Really, is anyone in Overwatch inconspicuous?

 

For crying out loud, their ranks include a talking gorilla, a wanted man, the world’s favorite DJ, the world’s best Doctor, Ana Amari’s daughter, Ana Amari herself, and one of the most famous exceptions to the laws of physics.

 

Brigitte sighs and rolls over in the bed.

 

The first night back from a mission is always the hardest.

 

The memory of someone walking into the kitchen, raccoon eye bags, and breath that tastes like monster comes to mind and Brigitte smiles stupidly into her pillow.

 

“Dammit Hana,” she mutters and sighs, trying again to conjure up her exhaustion.

 

Because she is exhausted. She’s been lugging around bags, equipment, and other various things all day, as well as being cramped on a plane trying to keep up with Lena in conversation which would tire out anyone.

 

Brigitte is bone tired, she can feel her bones sinking into the mattress.

 

And she can’t shut her brain up.

 

Hana smells like honeysuckle and hyacinths flowers and she tastes so sweet. Her eyes are like molten chocolate, deep and warm and dear god Brigitte thinks she could just sink into them.

 

She could sink into Hana and her soft lips, her gentle fingers tugging at the back of her hair and scratching at her scalp. She could melt in Hana’s voice, smooth and soft and airy in a way that reminds Brigitte of clouds. Hana’s smile like a flash of lightning, quick and bright and blinding.

 

Brigitte could just disappear in all that is Hana, Hana freaking song.

 

Brigitte gives up on sleeping.

 

~~~

 

Hana’s woken up at three in the morning by a light rapping on her door.

 

Now, in most situations, this would end with Hana telling off whoever was on the other side of the door by blasting them into the next century.

 

However, as Hana’s constantly reminded, Brigitte is the exception to her rules.

 

She opens the door only to be greeted by a sheepishly smiling Brigitte and she’s just so damn cute.

 

Ruffled hair hanging down around her shoulders, freckles on full display for the world to see, adorned in a simply tank top and shorts. She opens her mouth to speak, but Hana just grabs the girl by the wrist and tugs her into the room before she can.

 

“I’m sorry-” Brigitte starts, but Hana’s still not awake enough to use English so she just tugs Brigitte over to her bed with minimal grunts of acknowledgment before dropping back into the mattress, pulling her girlfriend with her.

 

Brigitte doesn’t even protest, just wriggles her way underneath the covers and wraps her arms around Hana’s waist, leaving her to nestle herself into the crook of Brigitte’s body where it’s warmest.

 

And the world smells like honey and cinnamon and all Hana can do is close her eyes and let herself sink into it.

 

“I missed you,” she hears herself mutter and Brigitte chuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 

“I missed you too, Hjärtat.”

 

And Brigitte’s voice is just so warm and rough and deep and Hana finds herself wishing she could listen to it all night. So she just tucks her head against Brigitte’s shoulder and presses a kiss against her neck.  _ I love you _ , she thinks.

 

Brigitte just holds her tighter.


End file.
